


you taste like freedom

by howtobreathe



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howtobreathe/pseuds/howtobreathe





	you taste like freedom

Neatly trimmed grass is prickly and cold against the soles of Yugyeom’s bare feet, the thin tank he’s wearing is slipping down one shoulder and the stickiness of the balmy summer night is making the fabric adhere unpleasantly to his skin. 

He tugs at the collar absently, fanning himself with his other hand. The buzz of the cicadas down by the greenhouse barely ruptures through the aftereffects of the heavy bass still pumping through Yugyeom’s veins, his eardrums are throbbing and he takes a deep breath, exhaling with a tiny sigh.

Beer trickles down the side of the plastic cup in his hand when he tilts it back against his wet lips and Yugyeom runs fingers through his too-long fringe as he watches headlights approach from down the long driveway, framed on each side by rows of trees and azaleas lined up like soldiers all the way up to Youngjae’s ridiculously large house. 

_Estate_ , Youngjae would correct him, _estate_ because Youngjae’s family has money and families with money have _estates_. Money like water, Yugyeom muses, taking another sip as he watches a shiny black car slow to a stop next to the vine covered fountain. 

Car doors slam shut, a sharp electric beep cuts through the silence like a knife and a brief flash of headlights across the lawn extends Yugyeom’s shadow like some freakish monster behind him. He smells them before he sees them, a thick heady scent that consumes his senses and has Yugyeom’s head spinning, he’s _dizzy_ and only grounded when there’s fingers suddenly pressing against his collarbone, skimming up to rest on his shoulders. 

“Hello.” Yugyeom says and the glow of Bambam’s eyes are like rubies in the moonlight.

“Hello.” And it’s Jaebum’s voice that answers, his black hair sweeping the tops of his eyelids, crooked smile spread across features too handsome for any _real_ human being and Bambam’s shooting him a look. _Fuck off._ Jaebum smirks at them and then he’s taking the steps up the portico two at a time, disappearing through the open door with Jinyoung yawning sleepily behind him. 

“Have you been waiting long?” Bambam asks, mischief in his soft voice and it’s funny how even after all this time, the sound of it _still_ makes Yugyeom’s knees weak. Stars blink overhead, highlighting every line of Bambam’s face and he’s practically glowing, the glitter he’d put on his skin winking slyly as he turns his head. 

“Felt like it.” Yugyeom scrunches his nose, puckering the skin between his eyebrows and Bambam’s backing away, tugging on his wrist. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t decide what to wear,” Bambam’s mesh sweater doesn’t leave much to the imagination and Yugyeom’s eyes linger on the sharp dip of his collarbone before flicking back up to his face. Bambam looks smug, “Jinyoung told me I might as well have come naked.”

“I wouldn’t have been opposed to that.” Yugyeom mutters and he laughs breathlessly as Bambam smacks him on the side of his arm. 

They leave the hum of the cicadas behind, trading the peaceful nighttime air for the throbbing of heavy bass. Bambam’s walking backwards through the door, fingers still gripping Yugyeom’s wrist and the way he looks, his eyeliner messy and his hair in his face, it’s enough to get Yugyeom’s pulse racing. He feels drunker than he actually is, Bambam’s smiling at him, looking up through his lashes and they’re weaving through a mass of bodies, supernatural and human alike— because it’s Youngjae’s party afterall.

Youngjae, Yugyeom notes, who's pinned against a wall by Jaebum, looking like a shadow in his all black leather ensemble. Jaebum’s eyes are as red as the blood speckled across Youngjae’s lips and he smiles at them as they pass, as if he knows something they don’t. Maybe he does. Youngjae blinks lazily at them and Yugyeom knows he’s on a high, up in the clouds, _too far gone_ to actually feel much of anything anymore. 

He knows, he’s been there before.

Yugyeom’s back presses against the wine red leather couch in the back of the billiards room. There’s a small group of people playing a game in a side room, the sharp clacking of the balls hitting each other breaking the stillness. Bambam’s crawling into Yugyeom’s lap, thighs bracketing his and fingers threading through his hair, Yugyeom feels the slow burn of fire as it ignites in his gut. 

He feels it all the way down to his toes, hot embers tickle at his insides and alcohol buzzes pleasantly like an electric blanket over his skin. There’s a faint smile on his face, Bambam’s cerulean hair is brushing against the underside of his chin, his cold nose nuzzling against the little crevice between his neck and ear and he’s breathing in like Yugyeom’s oxygen, like he’s life.

He’s so close, skin against skin and Bambam’s cold to the touch but _his_ touch burns and it’s burning Yugyeom, right down to his core and he snakes an arm around his waist to press him all the more closer. Bambam’s whining, something about Yugyeom’s death grip around his body and he’s a brat, Yugyeom doesn’t let go. He whispers in his ear and Bambam curls his head up, his neck arching and he’s looking at Yugyeom with dark eyes, pupils dilated.

“Can I?” It’s sweet, his voice, and it reminds Yugyeom of thick honey, the layer of melted caramel over a candy apple, the slow drip of ice cream down his knuckles. He reaches up to scrape with blunt fingernails against the sensitive skin at the nape of Bambam’s neck and the shudder that courses through his body has Yugyeom’s blood rushing.

He hums in response, settling a hand on Bambam’s hip, a large palm cradling the back of his head and Bambam trails cold fingers under Yugyeom’s tank. He takes a deep, trembling breath, exhaling into Yugyeom’s mouth as their lips open to each other.

It’s easy to get lost like this, Yugyeom loses track of time and Bambam’s suddenly pulling away. It’s too soon, Yugyeom chases him with his mouth and Bambam’s leaning back, his laughter like everything right in Yugyeom’s life, like he’s _everything_ and Yugyeom grips his hip a little tighter. 

“Addicted yet?” Bambam asks cheekily, lips swollen, chin jutting out stubbornly, eyes wide and dark, much too innocent looking for someone over three hundred years old. A small smile is working on Yugyeom’s face, his index finger gliding up the column of Bambam’s neck, under his jawline until he’s tilting his head up gently.

“Are you?”


End file.
